I Only Have Eyes for You
by DeborahKLA
Summary: What might have happened at La Louisianne if Hellstrom and Hickox had agreed to have "a little chat" about the situation...WARNING! NC-17, includes m/m gay sex, violence and bloodletting.


**PUAP – Pure, UnAdulterated Porn**

**I Only Have Eyes for You – Hellstrom/Hickox AU**

WARNING! NC-17, tons of m/m gay sex, plus violence and bloodletting.

Disclaimer: Although a few lines from the filmhave been used to set the scene, this fanfiction is in no way intended to breach the copyright held by Quentin Tarantino for _Inglourious Basterds _and all its characters.

_Some time ago I made mention of the possibility of a Hellstrom/Hickox pairing to AcidPeguin46, I believe, although I can't find it now and have no idea what thread it was in. All I know is that AP46 (or whoever) said "Dieter would like that. In fact, Dieter would like it very much." So I said I'd do it. But I kept putting it off, and putting it off, primarily because, with the exception of the image Mezza-Fredda planted in my mind of being casually fingered under the table by Archie Hickox while he lights Bridget's cigarette, I was not finding Hickox particularly sexually attractive. Well, that all changed when I read _Broken Jaw & All_, falseeyelashes' response to the following kink meme: "Bridget von Hammersmark/Lt. Archie Hickox, gunplay, talking dirty. Bonus points if Stiglitz watches." I found this story extremely hot, especially Hickox, and that set me on the right road to complete this story. Now don't get mad at me about the ending. It's not my fault and not necessarily how I would have liked it to end, but the characters took it the only logical way they felt they could._

_Be forewarned: this is PUAP smutty smut smut, with no redeeming artistic or social value. Don't expect the quality to match my other super-angsty fiction—not to say that those are necessarily high quality, but I do feel they are of slightly higher quality than this trashy piece of smut. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. _

**I Only Have Eyes for You**

Sturmbahnführer Dieter Hellstrom lifted his glass in a toast: "to a thousand-year Reich!" The others seated at the table—the German actress Bridget von Hammersmark; British Lt. Archie Hickox, disguised as an SS-Hauptsturmführer; and the renegade Wehrmacht Unterscharführer Hugo Stiglitz and Austrian-American Sergeant Wilhelm Wicki, both disguised as SS-Untersturmführers—all lifted their glasses to join him.

There was an ominous clicking sound under the table.

"Did you hear that?" Hellstrom asked Hickox. "That's the sound of my Walther pointed right at your testicles."

"And why do you have a Walther pointed at my testicles?" Hickox replied.

"Because you've just given yourself away, Hauptsturmführer. You're no more German than that scotch."

"Well, Sturmbahnführer—"

Hickox was abruptly interrupted by Bridget: "Sturmbahnführer—"

"Shut up, slut," Hellstrom snapped. He turned back to Hickox. "You were saying?"

"I was saying that makes two of us. I've had a gun pointed at your testicles since you sat down."

Stiglitz promptly leaned over and thrust the barrel of his pistol into Hellstrom's lap. "That makes three of us," he said with a wicked grin, "and at this range I'm a real Frederick Zoller."

"Hmmm…looks like we have a bit of a sticky situation here," Hellstrom said, voice still calm and collected despite the fact that his balls were now the target of two pistols to his one.

"What's going to happen, Sturm-bahn-führer," Hickox spat the rank out in distaste, "is you're going to stand up and walk out that door with us."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no," Hellstrom replied. "That's not what's going to happen at all. What's going to happen is that you and I, Hauptsturmführer 'Pitz Palu,' are going to get up and go into the back room to discuss this."

"What?"

"You heard what I said. I'm sure you value your testicles as much as I value mine—not to mention your life. And unless you and I can come to some sort of agreement, everyone in this room is going to die. You don't want that, I don't want that, and I'm quite certain no one else wants it, either—especially our dear, brand-new-father at the table behind us."

"Point taken. Let's retire to the back room, then."

"A wise decision, I assure you."

There was the sound of three pistols uncocking, and Stiglitz removed his from Hellstrom's lap, allowing him to rise along with Hickox.

"Mind the fort, boys, will you?" Hickox asked Wicki & Stiglitz, still speaking German.

The two men walked into the alcove, past the phonograph—now playing a popular Willi Fritsch/Lillian Harvey duet—and entered the back room where Hellstrom had begun his evening. There was a door at one end; Hellstrom walked over and opened it, flipped on a light switch.

"After you, sir," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What's this?"

"This will allow us a little more privacy."

Hickox hesitated, then entered the room. It was a bedsit, with a desk, a chair, a small bureau with a pitcher and wash basin. No doubt Eric used it on nights when he found himself at the bar long after closing. Hickox wondered if Eric would ever again have the need to use it after this night.

Hellstrom closed the door and locked it securely, then turned to look at Hickox.

"Well, what now Sturmbahnführer?"

Suddenly he was shoved up against the wall, Hellstrom's face within inches of his. Hellstrom smiled, a predatory, broad-toothed grin. Hickox marveled at how many teeth the man had and how sharp they looked. In his black uniform with his hair slicked back he looked quite like a panther examining his prey.

Without warning Hellstrom kissed him passionately, fervently, his tongue easing into Hickox's mouth. He wrapped one long-fingered hand around Hickox's neck and drew him closer. When he finally pulled back, Hickox looked at him in complete astonishment.

"Don't you understand, 'Hauptsturmführer'? We're both going to die tonight," Hellstrom said. "Why not have a little fun before we go?" He spoke in English, surprising Hickox even more.

Then Hickox understood. "Go out with a bang rather than a whimper, eh?" This, too, was said in English.

"Something like that."

"Whyever not?" Hickox began undoing the buttons on his uniform tunic. Hellstrom removed his belt, unbuttoned the jacket of his uniform.

The two undressed quickly, then stood before each other naked. Both were slender men, Hickox more muscled and wiry than his German counterpart, who looked frail and vulnerable without his uniform, his pale skin almost ghostly. Hellstrom was already fully erect, Hickox half so. He reached down to stroke his cock, rolling the foreskin back and forth over the already moist head.

"Allow me," Hellstrom moved forward, took hold of Hickox's cock and began stroking it firmly and sensuously, each movement of his hand deliberate in giving pleasure. Hickox sighed at the man's touch, his cock twitching and rising further. Hellstrom pulled him into another kiss, and this time he returned it with the same fierce passion with which it was given.

Hellstrom drew back briefly, and spoke: "My name is Dieter," he whispered.

"My name is Archie."

It was the sort of quick exchange of common courtesy both men had experienced in public toilets, locker rooms, the changing rooms and showers at swimming baths, and in dark movie theaters. Once dispensed with, the men returned to their kiss. Archie reached down and took hold of Dieter's cock, began tugging it with the same smooth, teasing rythmn Dieter was using on him. Dieter moved closer, at the same time pulling Archie forward until their cocks touched. Archie let go then, let Dieter take hold of both cocks, rubbing them together in a slow, sensuous rythmn.

Archie couldn't help himself. His head fell back and he moaned.

"Ja," Dieter breathed, "you want this as much as I do, don't you?"

"Yes," Archie admitted, his voice quavering with desire, "I do. I want it badly."

Dieter brought up his free hand, pinched the other man's nipple, making him groan. Then he bent down to bite it, and Archie gasped, pulled him into a fierce embrace, kissing him deeply, his tongue exploring Dieter's mouth. He felt feverish and weak when Dieter's grasp on their cocks tightened and began to increase in speed.

It shouldn't be happening this way, he thought. He was taller than Dieter and definitely stronger. Yet all he wanted to do was surrender himself to the other man's embrace, to the power of his touch, his lips, his tongue.

Dieter let go of their cocks, brought his hands up to Archie's shoulders, began pulling him downward. Archie understood immediately and fell to his knees, coming face to face with the other man's cock. He gazed at it for a moment. It was beautiful, long, flushed pink, the foreskin drawn completely back, the head almost crimson. A single clear drop emerged from the tip, and Archie quickly licked it off, thrilled that he was able to make the other man gasp.

He leaned forward and took that beautiful cock into his mouth and then deep into his throat. He swallowed, letting the muscles of his throat ripple along the man's shaft. He felt Dieter shudder from the sensation.

Archie was suddenly aware of the phonograph in the distance. It was playing an older American song, and in his feverish state of mind he was quite convinced that somehow their little rendezvous was being serenaded, absurd as that might be. He drew back, began sliding his mouth back and forth on that long, delicious cock.

_Are the stars out tonight?  
I don't know if it's cloudy or bright  
For I only have eyes…for you…dear_

Archie couldn't help but smile. Here he was, naked, on his knees, a Gestapo major's cock sliding in and out between his lips, and this sodding, syrupy American song was playing in the background, rendering the very ambience both wickedly decadent and sweetly innocent all at once. How very funny life could be, thought Archie.

_The moon may be high  
But I can't see a thing in the sky  
For I only have eyes…for you…_

He began sucking harder and moving faster on Dieter's cock. His hands snaked around to grasp and caress the man's firm, white buttocks. Dieter grabbed him by the hair then, began fucking his mouth in earnest, and Archie opened wide for him, reveling in the feel of that hot flesh sliding rapidly back and forth across his tongue.

_I don't know if we are in a garden,  
Or along a crowded avenue._

Would that bloody song _never_ end? All Archie wanted was to enjoy the sweet taste, the musky scent of Dieter's cock without all this infernal simpering going on…__

You are here  
So am I  
Maybe millions of people go by,  
But they all disappear…from view…  
For…I…only have eyes…for you…

It was finally over, and Archie could hear the needle scratching at the end. But it didn't matter because Dieter was drawing away and out of his mouth now, and he wouldn't let Archie pull him back. He gently but firmly removed Archie's hands from his buttocks, then went to fetch something from his coat pocket. It was a small tin of salve.

"I want to fuck you," he told Archie.

"Jolly good," Archie replied, "one last fuck for the road."

He got up from his kneeling position, walked over to the bed and bent over. He lay his head against one arm, his other hand snaking down to grasp and then tug at his now very hard cock. He raised his arse and spread his legs, heard Dieter's appreciative moan. It was very quiet now, so quiet that he could hear the sticky, slippery sound of Deiter slicking up his cock.

He felt the other man move closer to him, felt one hand grasp his hip firmly, holding him in place. Two fingers coated in salve were suddenly shoved up his arse, and he gasped and bit his lip.

Dieter held still, gave Archie a little time to get used to the sudden invasion, then began moving his fingers slowly in and out, occasionally stopping to make a scissors motion inside, stretching him further.

Suddenly Dieter stopped moving his fingers, and Archie stifled a sharp cry when he felt the tips of those fingers make circles on his prostate. He moaned and began moving his hips, trying to pull those fingers in deeper when a third finger slid in to join the first two. Together all three fingers danced and rubbed and pressed against that exquisite spot, making Archie shudder and moan even more.

Archie wasn't sure how he managed to get the words out, considering how far gone he was, but somehow he did: "If you keep…doing that…I'll come."

Deiter stopped then, drew his fingers out slowly, and Archie shuddered again when they were pulled completely out. Then he felt the head of Dieter's cock gently, teasingly nudging against his opening, entering a fraction and then pulling back again, driving him mad.

"Please…" he gasped

"Please what?"

"…Please…"

"Please do this?" Dieter slipped just the head of his cock in and held it there. Archie gasped with pleasure.

"Perhaps this?" Dieter let his cock creep in a little deeper.

"Yes," breathed Archie.

"And maybe…this?" He shoved his cock all the way in, then reached under to grasp the other man's balls and rub them against his own.

Archie bit into his fist in a failed attempt to stifle the cry that burst from his throat. Dieter held still then and leaned over his back. Archie felt his hot breath at the back of his neck, shivered when he felt him sink his teeth into his earlobe.

"You're so hot," Dieter whispered in his ear, "so hot and so tight. Do you want me to fuck you now?"

"Yes," Archie breathed

"Say it."

"Yes."

Dieter's hand smacked hard against Archie's right buttock.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, you limey slut."

"Fuck me," Archie whimpered. Another hard smack came down, this time on his left buttock.

"What was that? I can't quite hear you."

"Please…" another two smacks, and Archie began gasping and crying. "Fuck me, please, please fuck me, fuck me hard…" finally erupted from him and Dieter gripped both hips and began shoving his cock in and out.

"How does it feel to have a thick Nazi cock up your arse?" Dieter hissed.

"It's good…"

Another two smacks on his rear end. "What was that again?"

"It feels good," Archie cried out desperately, "so good."

"I'll bet it does. You've wanted this…for some time now…haven't you? Fantasized about it…" Dieter's voice was breathless as he plunged in and out.

"Yes!" Archie was frantically fisting his cock while shoving his arse back to meet each thrust.

"You're such a slut," Dieter breathed, thrusting even faster, "say it."

"I'm…a slut."

"Yes, you are, aren't you?"

"Yes…"

"Oh, Christ…" Dieter slammed his cock all the way in and came with a loud groan. Archie could feel it throb inside him with each spurt, and he shoved his arse as far back as he could to take it even deeper, just as his own cock began to throb and spurt, leaving a wet trail on the bed.

For several minutes there was silence as each man caught his breath. Archie thanked God for the absence of the phonograph.

Then Dieter began grinding his hips again—he was still hard.

"I'm good for another one," he whispered into Archie's ear.

"Jesus…are you really?"

"Yes." Again he sank his teeth into the soft earlobe.

"And I'm the slut?"

Dieter laughed, pulled out roughly making Archie gasp again, this time in pain. Dieter rolled him onto his back and onto the bed, climbed in between his legs and lifted them over his shoulders. He brought the head of his cock up and rubbed it teasingly for a moment against the entrance, which was still moist and sticky with salve.

"Yes," he hissed, as he shoved back inside. "You're the slut, because you're the one being fucked."

Before Archie could say anything Deiter had set a rapid pace, fucking him hard and fast, and it wasn't long before Archie's head began to roll and the whimpering started up again. He couldn't believe he was hard again so soon, but he was. He was about to take hold of his cock again when he felt Dieter's long fingers wrap around it.

"Allow me," Dieter breathed, and he began tugging the other man's cock in time with his thrusts.

The two were silent for a while, basking in every sensation, letting the pleasure build. Then Dieter suddenly slowed and let out a long, hungry moan.

"Gott," he breathed, "ist gut."

"Yes," Archie whispered.

"Oh, you like it too?"

Archie didn't answer this time. Dieter leaned down closer to him, bringing Archie's knees almost to his chest as he began moving faster again. Archie bucked up to meet each thrust.

"Look how badly you want it," Deiter whispered. His eyes were wide open, staring down into Archie's. As far gone as he was, Archie held his gaze. He wasn't about to let this Nazi scum get the better of him even if—oh, Christ, yes—the pleasure was almost unbearable as the man's cock rubbed ruthlessly against his prostate.

"Not so chatty now, are we?" Dieter leered. "No doubt you're just too distracted by my cock up your arse."

Archie bit his lip to stifle a moan of pleasure. "Nazi scum," he spat out.

"Yes, that's right," Dieter breathed, "you'll be getting more of my Nazi scum momentarily, I assure you."

Dieter leaned all the way forward, bringing Archie's knees to his chest as his hips smacked hard against his arse. Again he whispered into Archie's ear, his breath hot.

"I'm going to fill you with my Nazi scum," he hissed.

This last pronouncement sent Archie over the edge, and he lurched upwards and came, coating Dieter's belly with his own scum. Dieter felt each hot spurt hit his belly and he thrust in as hard and deep as he could until he came, unable to stifle a sharp cry of pleasure.

The two men fell apart, breathing deeply. They were quiet for several minutes as they recovered themselves. Then Dieter got up to retrieve a washcloth from the small bureau and cleaned himself up. He started to dress. Archie rose then and began dressing himself, wincing occasionally as he did so. He was going to be sore for several days, he was sure.

"Damned good show, Sturmbahnführer," he said, "What now?"

"A farewell kiss, I think." Dieter reached for his Walther, but before he could get hold of it Archie had grabbed him, twisted him around and shoved him up against the wall. In one swift movement he drew his knife and cut Dieter's throat. He let go of him quickly, drew back and watched as Dieter slumped to the ground.

There was a towel draped over the desk chair. Archie walked carefully around the spreading pool of blood and back, grabbing it on the way. He watched and listened to Dieter's final death rattle as he slowly wiped his knife clean.

"Sorry old boy," he said, "but no one calls _me_ a slut."

He went out the door and locked it behind him. And then he heard it:

_Are the stars out tonight?  
I don't know if it's cloudy or bright  
For I only have eyes…for you…dear_

"Blast."

He walked back to the main room.


End file.
